


Minor Characters X: A City Full of Lights

by gelbes_gilatier



Series: Minor Characters [12]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Fights, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Soldiers, Team, Team Dynamics, Trauma, working out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-20 23:18:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16147631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gelbes_gilatier/pseuds/gelbes_gilatier
Summary: In the aftermath of the siege, everyone has to adjust to new realities on Atlantis, even (and especially) Major Thomas Moore, Captain Maureen Reece, Stabsarzt Matthias Morsberg and Senior Master Sergeant Simon DeLisle.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> And we are back! \o/
> 
> However, due to my inability and hate of having to write action and fight scenes, this might not actually live up to expectations. I honestly just suck at writing unarmed combat and especially non-traditionally forms of combat like fighting with bantos rods. I really hope it's not too boring and rushed but oh God, how I hate writing that. The only reason I did do it was that it wouldn't have worked any other way so there.
> 
> Also, due to the inevitable first days of fall head cold, I also most probably sucked at editing this but I really wanted to get it out ASAP, so I'm really sorry for all mistakes I overlooked in the editing process :S

** A City Full of Lights**

_“I’m backing up the lorry, can’t wait for night to come_  
_I’m sweeping out the backyard on a Friday afternoon_  
_We’ll gather round the players and we’ll head off for the stars_  
_Pack the van with poetry, drums and the guitars_  
  
_We’ll take Billy for the whisky, Willie for the door_  
_We’ll take Mary Kate and Lizzy for the dancing round the floor_  
_We’ll turn this empty hall into a city full of lights_  
_And lift the summer spirits through the passing of the night.”_

_Runrig, “The Place Where The Rivers Run”_

 

** One **

_Reece_

 This is kinda ridiculous. It’s only been five days since we mopped up the last Wraith remnants in this city we had to date, and I still feel kind of hungover from four days nearly without sleep and a _lot_ of combat. Command had all Atlantis personnel that contributed to the fighting and the following mop up operations and getting the city back into at least some semblance of order in the five days since we apparently fooled the Wraith into thinking we destroyed the city stand-down for the last two days, claiming we deserved some much needed rest. And yet here I am, wired enough to feel the need to burn off a kind of weird nervous energy.

 I can’t believe that after over a week of combat and the stress of constant alertness and wishing I could just sit _down_ for a moment, I seem to feel unable to do exactly that the moment I’m finally allowed to. Maybe my head just got used to a constantly high level of stress and now can’t come down off it or something but I think I really need to _do_ something or I’ll go stir-crazy.

 So after catching up on my lack of sleep – I did spent most of the explosion thing and the ten hours afterwards dead asleep but apparently, that wasn’t enough – and trying to sit in front of my open windows and use the free time to read through my one-year backlog of professional correspondence and academic journals from Earth in the light breeze in my miraculously still intact quarters for the last three hours, I finally give up, put on PT gear and make my way to the work-out room.

 God, I hope none of those Marines that came over with Colonel Everett are in there. I still harbor a _lot_ of resentment for their inability to just follow a goddamn _order_ if it didn’t come directly from Colonel Everett. And yes, I know that that’s unprofessional, especially now that I have apparently made it into the hallowed halls of captaincy but fuck, it got people _killed_.

 Sadly, the damn work-out room is _full_ of those fucking Marines and I’m just not in the mood for grunts and male twenty-somethings showing off just how _buff_ they are, never mind me _being_ a twenty-something. So I take the next best option, which is the dojo part of the work-out room where we train for unarmed combat, do yoga, you know what I mean. I’m not really in the right headspace for yoga right now but oh yeah, bantos rods. That would actually work. Huh.

 Thankfully, we decided to keep a couple pairs here after Teyla and a few other Athosians started giving lessons to everyone interested. After seeing what especially Teyla could do with a pair of wooden sticks, I decided that I was _definitely_ interested, and I learned how to fight with them passably well and how to do solo routines for focus and flexibility. And since no one else is here, solo routine it is.

 After warming up and stretching, I start with a slower routine, to work out some of the kinks left over from clearing up the city for several days straight and when I feel ready, I launch into a faster routine, a series of kicks and… what is _he_ doing here?

 And _why_ couldn’t I just ignore him and keep going on, instead of kind of clumsily stopping mid-routine and staring at him like a deer in headlights?

 Of course, _he_ can’t just get the hell out of here, either, instead looks at me with his eyebrows raised and says, “Sticks? That’s new, Lieutenant.”

 “Captain.” Now he’s the one blinking at me, and yeah, I did it again. Opened my mouth before thinking. But yeah, now that it’s out there, anyway… “It’s still… Captain now. Sir.”

 He blinks exactly one more time, then shakes his head and says, “Right, yeah. Captain.” And then, because he’s an asshole like that, he apparently just _has_ to add, “As soon as it’s confirmed, anyway.”

 This _is_ the guy who gave me his Captain’s bars – through a messenger, like some goddamn coward – with the words “Expect to see them on your shoulders soon as I see you again”. “Battlefield promotions don’t need to be confirmed.” Aren’t you forgetting something, Captain? “Sir.”

 “Battlefield promotions are for enlisted Marines and basically don’t exist anymore.” I hate it when he suddenly remembers all that red tape we all thought he’d forgotten. Because he only ever remembers it to win a damn argument.

 And for some reason, I’m really not in the mood for arguments with one Major Thomas Moore, anyway. I try very hard not to roll my eyes and sigh. “What do you want, sir?”

 He shrugs, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, looking so much like the man I knew at the SGC, you know, the guy whose alternate version I once kissed, that it hurts. I _missed_ this man, and now that he’s here, I have no idea how to react to him. “Too many damn twenty-somethings grunting in the work-out room.”

 If we were back at the SGC now, instead of Atlantis, and if it hadn’t for an entire year of no contact, I’d probably laugh now, at least a little. As it is, I kind of feel at a loss of words. “Sir?”

 Pushing off from the doorframe, he gestures vaguely to the middle of the room. “Someone told me there’s a sandbag hanging around somewhere in here.”

 Ah, yeah, right. It’s only been five days since he got here, and he’s already making himself at home. I just wish I knew how to feel about the prospect of serving _and_ living in the same city as Thomas Moore.

 Maybe just answering his question could be a start, though. “Over there to your right, sir.”

 He just nods, walking in and passing me by and… stopping to turn around and say, “Say, is there a problem, Reece?”

 Uh, what? “No, sir. No problem.”

 “Weird.” Oh no. I know that demonstratively measured, casual tone. “Could’ve sworn that I did _something_ wrong and you were judging me for it. But sure, if you say there’s no problem…”

 Oh for fuck’s sake. “There is no issue whatsoever, sir. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to get back to what I was doing.”

 He doesn’t, of course. Instead of just walking on and beating the crap out of that poor battered sandbag hanging in the back of the dojo, he just stands there, his head angled a little to the right, his eyes narrowed and… and then a small laugh, more of a snort, actually. “Fuck, I don’t believe this.” What? _What_? “You’re spoiling for a fight, Kid.”

  _God_ dammit. That nickname was one of the reasons I left the SGC. Because I actually started _liking_ it, and that’s when I knew that I was headed somewhere I really didn’t want to go. Which is also why I’m pretty much ashamed that the damn _You did good today, Kid_ post-it from five days ago still hasn’t made into the trash.

 Also, he’s not even wrong. Maybe, a minute ago or so, I would still have managed to credibly deny that assumption – even though he’d still have been right, if I’m being honest – but after _that_ … dammit.

 I can still try, though, right? “No, sir. Just doing a few routines for flexibility and focus. Now, if you’ll excuse…”

 “You. Are. Spoiling. For a fight.” There’s no need to spell it out twice, thank you very much. “That’s fine, Kid. Unexpected, but fine.” What is that even supposed to mean? “You need a partner?”

 No, goddammit. I scowl at him. “What I _need_ , sir, is space and quiet to just get through my routine in peace.”

 He snorts again, not really with humor. “No. You really need a fight.” I do. Fuck, I _do_ need a fight. That’s why I came down here. That’s why I couldn’t really concentrate on doing my solo routine. Because I was missing someone to beat the crap out of. And I _hate_ him for seeing through me like that, after a year of not talking, not even seeing each other. “I know everyone thinks I’m mostly useless at reading people and I agree. But I do know someone spoiling for a fight when I see them.” _Fuck_. “Come on, show me what you can do with those sticks.”

 I work very hard not to grind my teeth. “Bantos rods.”

 He raises an eyebrow. “Huh?”

 “Bantos rods, sir. That’s what the Athosians call them.” This is the first time I catch myself regretting Command’s decision to postpone the newbie introduction briefings until after the bulk of the regular new contingent arrives with the _Daedalus_ in a couple weeks. I just really wish I wouldn’t have to give an impromptu one to my former boss right now.

 In fact, I wish I wouldn’t have to be anywhere close to my former boss right now, period. Pity I can’t tell him so outright because _that_ would lead to all kinds of uncomfortable and awkward questions, and I have a feeling that neither of us is in the mood for _that_.

 He shrugs again. “Whatever. Let’s see what you can do with them.”

 Fine. I don’t care. Whatever. It’s me shrugging now and twirling the bantos rods in my hands just once – and being _really_ lucky because just for once I get it right instead of embarrassing myself – before nodding towards the cabinet where we keep a few practice sets behind him. “Just grab a set, sir.”

  _Shit_. Just when he turns around to get himself a pair of bantos rods, I realize why this was a _terrible_ idea. Because a) he’s still a Special Tactics Officer who’s really good at what he does which also includes being an expert in several forms of armed and unarmed combat and being able to adapt very fast to new fighting styles and b) he’s still a really attractive man, now with an added tan he must have acquired at Area 51 and something I can’t quite define. Something about the way he holds himself, like he went through Hell and came out alive at the other end and _knows_ it and…

 And oh good, now he can twirl the damn things like he was born to wield them, despite never having even touched them until this moment. And looking _so damn good_ while doing it. I’m _doomed_. “Okay,” he says, testing the rods’ weight and feel a little more, “any rules I need to know, Captain?”

 Points for not calling me Lieutenant. _Again_. But that’s the only thing he gets points for, really. “Nothing that gets blood on the mats.” Or any bones broken but something tells me he knows enough about SGC doctors to do everything to avoid impairing someone’s combat readiness. “Sergeant who takes care of the dojo is a bit anal about that.”

 And also… in critical condition in the infirmary. Shit, I really need to work on keeping everyone’s post siege status straight.

 He just nods. “Okay, fair enough.” Then he grins. He actually grins and I just hate him even more for that. “Now, show me what you got.” 

 Okay, then. I _know_ it’s probably stupid, considering that he’s taller and stronger than me and has more reach, but I’m not in the mood for finesse, so after circling around the mats for a minute or so, just to see how serious he is about fighting, I decide to be the one to throw the first punch and raise the bantos rods for an attack from above.

 Like I expected it, he immediately moves one of his up to block but sadly uses the other to block any possible kicks from below. Damn, there goes that tactic. Fine,  let’s go for his unprotected flank with a rod and a twist, using the momentum he had to build up to block. Sadly, it doesn’t hit him but it made him stumble, and trust me, against this guy, that’s a win.

 I try to build up speed, attacking him from two sides with my rods but damn, I’m not fast enough to get one in between his parries. And just when I realize what he’s been doing – watching me move and studying this fight before making his move – he changes the beat and just sidesteps one of my attacks instead of parrying, getting in my back and swiping my legs from under me, making me land on my damn back. _Fuck_.

“Damn,” I hear him say, and the most vexing thing is the honest approval in his voice when he adds, “you _are_ good at this.”

 I know I probably should just keep my mouth shut, considering that it was a pretty _hard_ landing. And yet, I can’t help pressing out, “Funny, sir. _Really_ funny,” because honestly, _what_? He just kicked my ass at the _first time_ he ever did this, and he has the gall to tell me that I’m “good” at this?

 I’m actually a little pissed – and also need another moment to catch my breath – to get right up but that just makes him crouch next to me, his arms resting on his knees, shaking his head. “No, really. You’re pretty badass at this, Kid. I just got lucky is all.” Got lucky, my _ass_. I get up into a sitting position, glaring at him, which, apparently, he takes as an invitation to grin and say, sounding scarily eager, “Another round?”

 I keep glaring. “You bet your ass another round. Sir.”

 “Awesome,” is what he says and then takes the rods in one hand while offering me the other to help me get up. Oh, _fine_.

 I let him pull me up, and we get back to circling and probing. And then he just goes and adds another difficulty level: _conversation_. “But seriously, Kid, I really gotta ask: you honestly think that promotion’s gonna stick?”

 What kind of question _is_ that, anyway? I go for a low attack, replying, “Yes, sir,” between clenched teeth.

 He parries, twisting and probing with a counterattack that lacks seriousness. “I wasn’t kidding. You know as well as I that field promotions are an enlisted thing.” So _what_? And damn, I actually missed a good opportunity to retaliate. Okay, just keep looking for a hole in his defense. “Why do you think they’re gonna give it to you?”

 And there it _is_. Telling him, dead serious, “Because John fucking Sheppard says so, that’s why,” I duck his swipe at me and take the opportunity to swat him in the back, making him stumble. 

 He recovers remarkably fast, returning to twirling his rods once, twice, while leading me in another circling and probing dance. “ _What_ is it about that guy, anyway? I did my homework, Kid. He nearly washed out after some stunt down in the Stan.”

 I roll my eyes. What? He’s not my boss right now, we’re in an informal setting and _he_ started that conversation, after all. “He never leaves a man behind, sir. That’s why he nearly washed out.” And with that, I’m about to launch another attack at him but he just… stops. Just stops moving and lowers his arms and um, “What? Why did you stop fighting?”

 He just shakes his head. “Fight’s over, Kid. Got some work to do.” With that, he turns his back to me, his rods both in one hand, clearly planning to put them back in the cabinet.

 Uh. We clearly weren’t finished here? I blink. “What, why…” And blink again. Because _something_ clicks, and before I know it, the words, “You left her behind,” are out of my mouth.  

 He stops, once again, his back to me. Then turns around, facing me, all cockiness having leaked out of him, leaving someone behind I don’t recognize. “Kid.”

 I _know_ I should just shut the fuck up and maybe even apologize but for some reason _this_ is the moment when, for the first time, it _fully_ registers with me that Laura Greenspan is _dead_. She’s not coming here. Not with the next _Daedalus_ wave, not _ever_. She’s _gone_. And _something_ in that makes me forget common sense, decency, and the promise I made to Dee not even a week ago. Because I _finally_ realized something else. “ _You left her behind_.” I _know_ I just should leave it at that but I just can’t help it. I even find myself pointing one of my rods at him, closing the distance between him and me, step by step. “ _You_ left her _behind_.”

 He doesn’t even raise his rods. Or get in a defensive position. In fact, he just shakes his head, to utter a low, “I…” and nothing after that.

 And something in that makes me irrationally angry. I narrow my eyes, now close enough in distance to kick his ass, and _definitely_ close enough in emotion to actually go through with that. “Say it’s not true.”

 I _want_ him to say that. Honest to God, I want _nothing_ more than to hear him deny it, tell me it wasn’t him, it didn’t happen, not like that at least, just _any_ denial will do. Instead, shakes his head again. “Kid, I just wish…”

  _Goddammit_. Something in me just _snaps_ and next thing I know, I’m battling him again, throwing out attacks like candy, making him back up until he’s almost with his back to the wall and I realize that the only reason I haven’t yet landed on my back again is that he’s fighting back not even half as hard as he could. And that makes me _so damn angry_. “Fight back! Just damn well fight _back_ , you coward!” I don’t even know where that was coming from but _fucking hell why doesn’t he fight back_?

 He still doesn’t and that’s how he ends up with his back to the wall and my bantos rods crossed at his throat and both of us breathing hard and in a corner of my mind I wonder why he even broke a sweat when he wasn’t working that hard in the first place and that’s what makes me stop and _look_ and realize the _full_ extent of what I just did.

 I broke my promise to Dee. I gave the Major crap about Laura’s death, when I had no right to do that and when I, from the look of him – like he’s right in his own personal hell right now – ripped open a wound that wasn’t even semi-healed in the first place.

 Because he really does believe that it was his fault. It doesn’t even matter what happened because he’s convinced that it’s his fault, and his alone. I don’t even have to know the full story, I just have to look at him right in this moment and somehow know that there’s only one person Thomas Moore blames from Laura’s death, and that’s himself.

 I… don’t deserve to be here. I _can’t_ be here. I just… I need to _go_.

  _Fucking hell_.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eurgh, argh, still wrestling with the head cold, now into the part I hate most (the "HUMANS ARE NOT MEANT TO BREATH THROUGH JUST ONE HALF OF THEIR NOSES AAAARGH!" part) and I'll blame every damn mistake I didn't find while editting on this. I so very much hate having a cold, eurgh. (Look, I _know_ there are worse things than that. That doesn't make it any nicer, though)
> 
> Anyway. This was still kinda fun because writing Dee always is, as I really like his observation skills and his capacity for sober and clean analysis, coupled with his loyalty to both his boss and his friends (I know I like to joke that Maureen is the only adult on the team but in _this_ phase, it's definitely _Dee_ who checks all the boxes on adulting...) _and_ his ability to quietly and calmly speak truth to power and not let Tom intimidate him, at all. It's a little short but I hope you still like it.

** Two **

_DeLisle_

 I honestly should just stop unintentionally listening in to private conversations.

 Then again, people could also just stop _having_ private conversations in public where everyone could stumble over them and unintentionally listen in. And by people, I mostly mean Maureen and the Major. I honestly can’t believe we haven’t been here even for a week and they already had another work-out room argument.

 I also can’t believe it wouldn’t even take a week for Maureen to break her promise not to give the Major shit about Laura’s death. I’m not sure if I’m even pissed off at her, considering how raw and wounded she sounded when she told the Major to fight back and how frightened she looked when she stormed out of the room. And you know, I kinda knew she would. The moment she promised me not to, I knew she would.

 I just didn’t think she’d snap so soon. Knowing the Major, it probably was something he said.

 Oh hell, that wasn’t fair and judging from everything I just heard and saw – it started with “Say it’s not true” and ended with Maureen running out of the work-out room, probably too rattled to even notice me – it’s safe to say that he _might_ need a bit of non-commissioned officer TLC. I sigh and enter the work-out room.

 At first, I’m a little confused but then I see him. Behind me, on the floor slumped against the wall right next to the door, his hands covering his face. Okay. That’s… not good.

 I crouch next to him, the bottle of water I brought with me in one hand. Realizing he either hasn’t heard me coming in or, more likely, refuses to acknowledge there’s someone else in the room, I decide to be gentle, just this time. “Water, sir?”

 There might or might not have been a low groan from his direction. Either way, he doesn’t look at me, but extends a hand towards me, the other still half covering his face. But yeah, I get the hint. Without a word, I put screw off the bottle’s cap and hand it to him. He takes a deep draw, then rests both his arms on his drawn up knees and stares a little off into space and I honestly wonder if I shouldn’t be pissed off at Maureen, after all. This still doesn’t look very good.

 Then, after another small eternity of silence, he says, kind of out of the blue, “Did you know she took up stick fighting here?”

 Um. No? “Stick fighting, sir?”

 “Yup,” he makes and gestures towards two wooden batons on the floor in front of him. “She says they’re called bantos rods and are used mainly by the natives.” Okay. That’s… interesting, I guess? “She got really damn good at it, to be honest.”

 Alright, that was enough chit-chat. Fuck being gentle, this needs the direct approach. “Sir?”

 He frowns, finally looking at me. “What?”

 “What happened?” Because honestly, we both know beating around the bush won’t get us anywhere, anyway, so there’s no use in it. Better go at this headfirst.

 It takes him a moment, and he turns away from me again, when he replies, “What happened is that Maureen Reece got even better at cutting through the bullshit and right to the heart of the matter.” Wow, cryptic much, sir? Probably, maybe, sensing my confusion, he takes another swig from the bottle and turns back to me, a dead-pan look on his face. “She realized I left Laura behind, and that’s what killed her best friend.”

 Well. Uh. “Sir, you know that’s not exactly what…”

 “It’s _exactly_ what happened, Dee.” And here I thought we were over that long ago.

 I shake my head and barely resist a sigh. “Look, she _asked_ …”

 “Yes, and I shouldn’t have listened to her.” She did have some good arguments and she knew what she signed up for and… “This debate is over, Dee.” He says that almost casually but he and I both know that he’s going to be anything _but_ casual about it if I continue this conversation.

 But damn, I’m _not_ willing to let this go entirely. “Sir… why didn’t you just tell her the truth?” Or your slightly warped version of the truth, anyway.

 He snorts, humorlessly. “You really think she would have listened?”

 Okay. Saying “yes” now would be a lie because from the way she looked when she stormed out of the room, she might actually not be very much inclined to listen to him defend – or rather blame – himself. However, “She might have surprised you, sir. You know how she likes to do that.”

 That makes him laugh, even kind of genuinely. Just a small, short chuckle, sounding only as half as cynical as it used to after Laura died and I’m honestly wondering if he wasn’t right when he said that we’d be screwed if we managed to survive that crazy nuke plan. I don’t know _exactly_ what his feelings are toward Maureen, just as I don’t know exactly how she sees him but whatever it is, it’s _definitely_ a clusterfuck. Or bound to become one very soon.

 “Yeah,” he says, cutting through my musings, “she does, doesn’t she?”

 I find myself nodding. And then, because some devil must be riding me, I can’t help adding, “At least she didn’t hold a knife to your throat, sir.”

 There’s this moment, this very tiny moment when I’m about to regret my – honestly thoughtless – quip and apologize because he looks at me like he’d like to hold a knife to _my_ throat but then, for whatever reason, he seems to have decided that at least he’s over _that_ and genuinely laughs, rolling his eyes. “ _Way_ too soon, Sergeant.” Yeah, that’s what I thought. “But still, a good one.”

 High praise, indeed. I’m about to say something to that effect when suddenly, there’s a new voice in play. “Uh, sir, um, can I, uh…” Lieutenant Rivers. Dear God, _why_?

 “Lieutenant Rivers. Anything we can do for you?” The funny thing is: I have seen the Major switching from being a mess to acting _completely_ unfazed in two seconds or less countless of times. But I still find it amazing to watch it happen every damn time it does. It’s something no one who knows him, including me, would ever have him credited with and yet here we are.

 He even managed to get up in one dynamic motion, betraying nothing of what just happened here. Rivers at least looks suitably impressed. “I just uh… I wanted to apologize, sir.”

 The Major frowns, and so do I. “For what, Lieutenant?”

 At this point, I’m not sure if he really doesn’t know what Rivers might want to apologize for or if he just wants to make it as hard as possible for him, and from the look of it, Rivers doesn’t have an idea, either. “For my uh behavior during the siege, sir. It was unprofessional, out of line and put lives in danger. Sir.”

 For a second lieutenant in the US Marine Corps, that was actually a really decent performance. Admitting to a field grade that you behaved like the last moron under their command and endangered their life with your stupidity is something that doesn’t come easy to _anyone_ , let alone the testosterone filled calamity that is a male second lieutenant.

 The Major nods, a little absentmindedly. And then moves to show the lieutenant that he was wrong, _again_. “Duly noted, Lieutenant. But you know as well as I that you shouldn’t have come to me, don’t you?” Rivers looks vaguely uncomfortable. Yeah, you better. “This should have gone to Captain Reece, and we both know it.” Kudos for not slipping yet again and calling her Lieutenant, sir.

 Rivers now suddenly looks awfully much like an overeager Golden Retriever puppy. Why do second lieutenants _always_ look like overeager Golden Retriever puppies at some point in their life? “Oh, I already did, sir.” Damn, I hope she gave him… “I mean, _actually_ , she came to me.”

 I share a frown with the Major, and then he turns back to Rivers. “Care to elaborate, Lieutenant?”

 Rivers continues to look uncomfortable. I’m starting to get the bad feeling that even he has already picked up on the weird vibes between the Major and Maureen and would like nothing more than to beat a fast retreat instead of having to wade into something he doesn’t really understand. I actually feel him, at least a little. “I, um… She, uh. She came to me, two days ago and apologized for her uh outburst in the secondary ops.”

 Yeah, _that’s_ the Maureen I know. She’d do something like that, in a heartbeat. That, finally, is a sliver of the person I used to know back at the SGC. It’s actually kind of reassuring that somewhere beneath the veneer and the scars of a year in Atlantis, there’s still something of that wide-eyed, decent to a fault, polite lieutenant left.

 “Of course you told her there wasn’t anything to apologize for. Right, Lieutenant?” Come on, sir, that’s bullshit, and we all know it.

 “Uh, yeah, about that, sir…” Uh-oh.

 The Major really is a mess where Maureen is concerned, but at least this time, he seems to have realized it _before_ making any stupid moves and doesn’t show his displeasure by more than a slightly unhappy and kind of menacing look before saying, “You still have a _lot_ to learn, young _padawan_.”

 Rivers visibly swallows what was probably some snappy comment or other and says, with just a bit of difficulty of sounding genuinely contrite, “Yes, sir.” Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he really has the gall to open his mouth to add something. Oh… “Sir, Captain Reece really is one of the good ones.”

 “Yeah,” the Major drawls, looking increasingly annoyed with this puppy of an officer, “I’m sure she’ll appreciate _your_ endorsement of her qualities as an officer especially.”

 Okay, I think that’s enough. I clear my throat. “Sir, if you don’t mind, I’d like to excuse myself from the conversation and take care of what we were just…”

 “No,” he says, apparently _immediately_ picking up at what I was hinting at, and for someone who claims to be really fucking dumb where subtlety is concerned, that was pretty impressive, “I think that’s something _I_ need to handle.” No. Seriously, it’s going to be a disaster if _you_ confront Maureen… “Because _you_ will be tied down here, offering some of your sage wisdom to our _padawan_ here, won’t you, Sergeant?”

  _God_ dammit. I just got played by my damn boss, and I really hate it when that happens. _Especially_ if it involves babysitting a damn lieutenant. I can just barely keep myself from growling when I answer him, “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

 He gives me a tight grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Good, Sergeant. Lieutenant. As you were.”

 And with that, he’s gone, probably about to wreck whatever good rapport he had left with Maureen and I can’t even move to intercept because he effectively gave me an order in front of a very impressionable young officer who probably still thinks an officer’s word is law, and I am so not in the mood for a _discussion_ with that kind of officer. I sigh. “Okay then, Lieutenant… how are your hand-to-hand combat skills?”

 Rivers looks very much like he expects this to be a trick question, and that’s not even completely wrong. He swallows again. “Uh… they… uh… could use a little work, sir?” _Sir_? I fucking _work_ for a living. “Sergeant. They could use a little work, _Sergeant_.”

 Good lieutenant. “Alright, let’s get to it, then.”

 At least the Major left me with something _fun_ to do while I worry my head off about him shredding whatever chance of an at least civil professional relationship he had with Maureen because he’s convinced that _he_ can “handle” this. Beating the crap out of a lieutenant to distract myself, it is, then.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, _that_ was fast. But mostly because I already had the conversation written out and just needed to fill in the gaps, and that went astoundingly well. I'm probably going to take longer for the last chapter because that's going to be a bit more difficult, considering where it's all heading. 
> 
> Anyway. Here you go!

** Three **

_Morsberg_

 Okay, Mats. Don’t blow this. This might be your one big chance to _finally_ get out of the infirmary and on an actual off-world team on a permanent basis. With so many experienced people rotating out and loads of fresh, uninitiated people rotating in, there’s a good chance that especially one of the new team commanders might be willing to risk a confrontation with Dr. Beckett over plucking one of his surgeons from the infirmary team. Also, Beckett is going to get a whole slew of additional people once the _Daedalus_ is back with more than just an immediate reinforcement contingent, so he _might_ be willing to let me go.

 Okay. _Okay_. It’s gonna be a real easy. I don’t really know Evan Lorne, who, apparently, made the race as the new contingent XO – and Sheppard’s temporary replacement, once the Command staff plus a few selected second-row people go back to Earth for a round of debriefings and selecting new staff – but Maureen told me that he’s a decent, sensible guy who is amenable to good arguments and doesn’t shy away from risks if they might be worth it. I have a couple _really_ good arguments, so this should be a walk in the park. I can do this.

 I still need a few more moments to convince myself to _finally_ knock on the door to Lorne’s new office – more like a glorified broom closet but I’m sure it’s just temporary – but hey, I manage it, after all. And I get an immediate response. _Damn_.

 Oh. No. Wait. That’s a _good_ thing. Right.

 I enter, after Lorne’s command. He’s sitting at his desk, the entire thing full of personnel records. Even his laptop, shoved a little to the side, is standing on a small stack of records. It’s probably not a good idea to ask him why a tree did in his office, huh? He looks at me, not exactly happy to see me. “What can I do for you?” And he doesn’t _sound_ exactly happy, either. Uh-oh.

 But yeah, now that I’m here, I can just go ahead and do what I came for, right? “I was told that you’re the go to person for people who want to get assigned to off-world teams.” Hey, _don’t_ keep forgetting _that_ bit, not in this conversation, anyway. “Sir.”

 He leans back, in his chair, not exactly relaxed. More like wary. Not really an improvement. “That is correct. You’re… one of Beckett’s, aren’t you?”

 More or less. “Yes, sir.”

 “And… you want off the infirmary staff and on an off-world team?” I’m not sure I like this line of questioning, to be completely honest.

 I can just resist narrowing my eyes and decide to keep it formal and by the book. “Yes, sir. That is correct, sir.”

 He leans forward again, resting his forearms on his desk, his hands clasped. “Okay, look, Captain…”

 “That would be Stabsarzt, sir.” _Scheiße_. I think I just blew it. This is the one instance when I _shouldn’t_ have been correcting anyone on my rank, and of _course_ I just couldn’t help it. Can’t believe I really just did that.

 From the look of it, Lorne is indeed kind of unhappy about the interruption – like I said, I don’t really know him, but that little move of clenching his jaw and flattening his mouth into a very dissatisfied line was pretty unmistakable – and it doesn’t sound like he welcomed my correction, either, “Fine, then. Stabsarzt.” Not bad, actually. It definitely could use some work but he got the basics of pronouncing it right. Wow. “Can you give me _one_ good reason why I should go head to head with Dr. Beckett and tell him that I’m depriving him of a badly needed surgeon in the infirmary?”

 Okay. At least he didn’t throw me out right away? That’s… kind of a win, right? Or at least not an outright loss? Anyway. Time to make my case, “They don’t need me as badly in the infirmary as you need me in the field, sir.”

 Now he looks… interested? Is that what the raising his eyebrow thing was about? “Really? What makes you say that?”

 God, I hope that was an actual honest request to elaborate on my statement and not a trick question because it’s now or never and I decide to launch right into it, no holds barred, “Well, here’s the thing, sir: I’m fairly good in an OR, that’s indisputable.” It is. I still need to keep working on it but surgeons _always_ do. And as far as residents go, I’m not the worst of the bunch, I have learned that much. “I am, however, nearly unbeatable in the field. I’m a surgeon _and_ a combat medic, it’s what I’ve been trained to do and what I’ve been doing for most of my military career before I came here.” Okay, he still looks kinda interested. Time for the kicker. And it better kick _ass_ because I’ve sat on this metaphor for almost five days, and do you _know_ how bad surgeons are at metaphors? “Keeping me in the infirmary full-time is like only ever driving a Ferrari in the city. It does the job and it looks really flashy but that’s not what it was built for.”

 Uh-oh. There’s this “damn surgeons” look on his face, the one I’ve seen so _many_ times on the faces of my commanding officers whenever I dared to tell them that I’m good at my job and they have no way for rebuttal because they know I’m _right_. That usually doesn’t end well. And yes, it almost immediately changes to skepticism. “You mean it would be a waste to keep you in the infirmary full-time?”

 God, _yes_. “Biggest waste ever, yes, sir.”

 He runs a hand over his face, shakes his head, leans back in his chair… not good. That really doesn’t look good. It looks like I overplayed my hand and didn’t fold when I had the chance. Damn, I… “Okay.” Okay? What? “I might have a slot for you.”

 He… what? I blink at him and almost fall out of my textbook at ease posture and finally manage to tell him, “I’m all ears, sir.”

 “Major Moore.” What? No. _Fuck_ no. I _honestly_ thought Maureen might finally get her own team and she might request me as her medic if she knew that I would be up for… “You worked with him during the siege, didn’t you?”

 Fuck. Don’t let him see your open displeasure at _that_ spot. “Yes, sir.”

 “Do you think you can work with him on a permanent basis?” Hahahahahahahaha no. “He still has two slots open on his team. One of them is for a medic.”

 He said it totally casually but there was _something_ in his tone that suggested that this is a one-time offer and that I could either take it or leave but probably won’t get another one. Heaven knows _why_ but it really is either Major Moore or the infirmary. That’s not really much of a choice. Dammit. “Working with Major Moore would be fine, sir.” You know, except for the really unhealthy dynamics between him and Maureen that probably have the potential to wreck an entire team in the long run, even if she _isn’t_ part of that team, that is.

 Lorne nods, and I’m almost sure I can hear Laura Greenspan laugh from the distance. Maureen told me a couple days ago that she didn’t survive her stint at the SGC but for some _really_ weird reason it’s _this_ moment – when I just basically agreed to take _her_ spot on the team – that I realize that she _really is gone_. Holy hell. “Good. But you have to realize that they’re slotted for recon and intel gathering, Doc. Not a lot of MEDCAP assignments waiting in _their_ future.”

 What? Oh, right, Lorne just making sure I know what I signed up for. I probably don’t but that’s no reason not to give him a bit of reassurance. “Sir, you’ve read my file. You _know_ what I did before coming to Atlantis. Do you really think I want to be on an off-world team for MEDCAPs and handing out candy to village kids?”

 “Fair enough, Doc.” Huh. He really does accept that as an explanation. Interesting. “But Dr. Beckett is still gonna want to go over my backside with a wire brush for taking away one of his senior doctors.” Yeah, okay, that was to be expected. Of _course_ he’d bring up Beckett.

 Thankfully, I already have a plan for that up my sleeve. “Tell him I’m still available every time I’m not on a mission. And I get to be on call for the infirmary every time we pull security duty in the city.”

 Lorne looks actually impressed with me coming prepared to this meeting. But also, sadly, still not fully convinced. “That’s gonna be an awfully big workload, Doc.”

 Oh _please_. “I can handle it, sir.”

 That makes him roll his eyes and _now_ I abruptly remember that he used to be one Moore’s classmates and one of Laura’s friends, as she told me back on that memorable evening at the Broadmoor and… does _that_ have anything to do with the spot he suggested to me? “Who would have thought that all stereotypes about surgeons are actually true.”

 Aw, come _on_. I shrug. “None of us ever said they weren’t.”

 Another eye-roll, this time a little defeatedly. “Good point, Doc.”

 And… that’s it. Hey, come on, be a _little_ less vague? “So, do I get my assignment or not, sir?”

 He nods, looking a little annoyed and having to give in to that guy who kept him from working and had the gall to interrupt him just to correct him on his rank. “Yeah, on probation. Your off-world qualification is up-to-date?” I nod. Fuck yes it is. “Okay, we’ll try the suggested set-up for six months, evaluate and then reassess to see if we can make it permanent or not and _yes_ , that _is_ my final ruling. Clear, Stabsarzt?”

 Right, okay, yes, he really means business. I nod, giving him the answer American officers really seem to love. “Crystal, sir.”

 “Good.” I’d certainly say so. “Report to Major Moore ASAP. Oh, and tell him, if he has any issues with your assignment, he has to take them up with _me_ and no one else.” Goddammit, I was _right_. This _has_ something to do with Moore and Lorne being Academy buddies and Laura, too and I’m kinda pissed because I don’t know what _exactly_ this is about and I have the vague feeling that there’s something going on here I might not like.

 Confronting him about that would probably be career suicide, though, so the only thing left to me is, in the end, to just say, “Yes, sir,” and be done with it.

 Lorne seems to think so, too. “Dismissed, Stabsarzt.”

 Alright, then.

 I turn on my heel, exiting his office after a picture-perfect report and being reasonably sure that I might just have gotten played. If that really was the case, Lorne has probably the best poker face I have ever encountered. If this guy really gets confirmed as Sheppard’s new XO, we really are screwed. There’s no messing around with _this_ guy, that’s for sure. And my new boss apparently being his Academy buddy probably won’t make it any easier, either.

 Once outside his office, however, I decide that I’m not going to heed his last order, or at least not right away. He did tell me to report to Major Moore ASAP but damn, this is weird enough that I really need to talk to _Maureen_ before having to tell the one guy who definitely didn’t want to have me on his team back during the siege that he’s not going to get rid of me for the foreseeable future. Because _that_ is going to be so much fun.

 So… I think I have an idea where to find her…


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haaaa! Hahahahaha! Done! All done and this is a bit of a monster of a chapter - about five or some conversations rolled into one - but it really needed to be this long because this was supposed to be a chapter that cleared up a few issues, and apparently, it took a lot of talking to get those issues cleared up.
> 
> Anyway, after this, we'll be back to _Off the Screen_ pieces and I alreaday have a feeling, this season might be bigger than the last one, just because some episodes will demand a few more views on it than just one. We'll see.

** Four **

_Moore_

 And look, I have discovered another thing to hate about this place: it’s one damn big ass city. Like, _really big_. It doesn’t even look that big at first or when you just stay in the radius of the occupied parts. But hey, try to find one errant captain who got spooked by herself during an innocent sparring match and you’re pretty screwed.

 I mean, I think I finally found out where she is – _someone_ should tell the communication people around here that their network security is shoddy at best, because I managed to crack the code that operates the location of people’s radio sets within two days of settling here – but it’s a _bitch_ to get there, what with lots of transporters still offline, physical connections between towers having been destroyed, that kind of thing.

 So after jumping through about half the city in transporters I still don’t completely trust, circumventing missing walkways and catwalks by taking sweeping detours and, in one instance, walking by a pretty big hole in the outer wall _pretty_ high up, I finally find the place I’ve been looking for. It’s a balcony, probably the highest she could find. To be honest, I’m just glad that it has actual railings and isn’t some kind of windy cliff above the city. Also, not anywhere in a restricted area where she might get herself arrested by overeager SFs or something.

 Oh well. No time like the present and all that, so come on, Major, just get over yourself and go out there. Taking a deep breath, I just hope that the city hasn’t already alerted her to my presence but since the door actually opens it either didn’t. Or she decided she doesn’t want to keep hiding from me any longer. I’m not sure which of those I prefer.

 Anyway… I’m probably doing this wrong but I’m not known for my subtle and nuanced approach to interpersonal clusterfucks so might as well just follow my reputation. Stepping out on the platform, I immediately go with, “So even in Pegasus, _some_ old habits die hard, huh?”

 I have to be honest: it’s gratifying to see her wince and turn around, looking very much like a deer in headlights at least for a moment. I get that she didn’t actively want to hurt me back in that work-out room but… it did. Telling me that Sheppard’s one looming quality was that he doesn’t leave anyone behind kind of hit a raw spot. One I didn’t even know I had but probably should have known. Considering how I kept tensing up whenever Reece would mention not leaving anyone behind during our little adventure during the siege, that probably was kind of stupid. Still…

 “Sir, I…” Nope, not yet, Lieutenant. Captain.

 “Nice spot you got here, Captain. Come here often?” I _know_ I’m being an ass right now, despite taking care not to sound sarcastic, just friendly as I sit down next to her, putting the package I brought off to the side, so she can’t see it for now. Or maybe that’s what makes me an ass, I don’t know. But shit, I’m still smarting from that blow in the work-out room. That and my inability to fight back and just let her drive me against the fucking wall.

 She looks decidedly unhappy about me invading her private space like that and _that_ makes _me_ feel decidedly unhappy but I’ve got a feeling that if she _really_ wanted me to leave her alone, she’d have stated so already, in unmistakable terms. And yeah, it kinda looks like she’s debating how to continue with herself for a moment before she says, “Not as often as I’d like, sir.”

 Okay, interesting. She seems to have decided to play along for the time being. “City getting on your nerves?”

 “More like her inhabitants, sir. Some of them, at least.” Mh, that’s what I thought. Reece is, deep at heart, not exactly a loner but definitely someone who values her time for herself and being in a place where she’s available to everyone, all the time, just a radio call and maybe a ten minute walk away, definitely must be a challenge for her. Kind of a miracle that she made it for so long here.

 I’m not about to give her the satisfaction of going after the most obvious part of her statement, though. Because that would be making it easy for her. And I’m not here to make it _easy_ for her, or at least not right away. “Her, Captain?”

 “Yeah,” she says, looking at me, her legs drawn up and her arms resting there. “City’s a she.” There’s a gentle breeze up here, and instead of the usual tight regulations bun, her hair is in a lose ponytail. Little strands of curls are hanging in her face. I hate how hot and bothered that makes me.

 I frown. “The city is _female_? It told you that or what?”

 She’s _so_ close to rolling her eyes. Kudos to her self-restraint. Maybe she should have called that up earlier, in the work-out room? “Not exactly, no. But she _feels_ female, most of the time anyway.” I’m about to raise to the bait and ask her about that “most of the time” thing but she seems to have decided to quit playing along, after all. “Sir, correct me if I’m wrong but… you didn’t come here to ask me how communicating with Ancient tech works, did you?”

 Right. I could, of course, contradict her but that would be lying. And while she isn’t any good at lying herself, she’s _pretty_ good at spotting other people’s lies. So, fine. “No, Captain, I didn’t.” She’s about to ask me why I _did_ come and really, let’s shorten this considerably by me adding, “I just had a feeling we weren’t really finished back in the work-out room.”

 She swallows and _finally_ I can see the little lieutenant I had to let go a year ago. She’s not the same, not even here and now where she’s the furthest away from anything military, wearing her decidedly unmilitary Atlantis uniform, but this is the first time I see her since coming here when she doesn’t look all hard and steely and ready to take on another company sized group of Wraith any minute. “I… I’m really sorry, sir.” I somehow knew she’d say that and I’d prepared myself to not forgive her the minute she does because, you know, it’s kind of inevitable that she’d say that because she _always_ says that and truth to be told, I’ve been ready to forgive her the moment I stepped on this damn balcony. “I had no right to do what I did in the work-out room. There’s no excuse for what I did, and I have no idea how to make up for it. I’m really, truly sorry.”

 “Yeah,” I hear myself saying, “I know you are.” That’s the truth. I’d know that she really meant this even if I weren’t sitting next to her and could see it all over her, in her slightly slumped position, her damn green eyes, just everything. But… even though I probably already have forgiven her, I’m not ready to say that out loud. “It’s just… it’s been nine months but it’s still a one of a kind clusterfuck, Kid.”

 She looks away, back at the sea and kind of laughs but it sounds half choked, just like her voice when she says, almost too fast for me to process everything right away, “Eight months ago, Mats and I were sitting here, right here where you and I are sitting now and it was in the middle of the night and we just had had to deal with two clusterfucks of our own and then we had some of that hot chocolate Laura had put in that farewell package she gave me and I told him that I was still missing Laura and he told me that she could take care of herself. I told him I knew that. We were convinced that she’d take whatever the Milky Way through at her. And only _now_ I learn that she’d already been dead for a month at that point.”

 Oh hell.

 By now, the sun has sunk and it’s getting dark and for whatever reason, there are lights coming up all around the city, just not on this balcony and I can’t see her crying in the twilight but I can _hear_ her choking with tears and to be fully honest, it took me until this moment to realize what it must have meant for her to hear that her best friend has been dead for _nine months_ when she didn’t even consider that option. I take a deep breath, unable to look at her. “I’m sorry, Kid.”

 I can’t see her, mostly because I’m busy not breaking out in tears as well but I can hear her. “Only if it really was your fault, sir. And I don’t think it was.” Um. Considering what that fight in the work-out room was about, this is a bit of a one-eighty.

 And, funny enough, I actually believe her. Whatever she said in that work-out room, she doesn’t think so, anymore. Whatever happened since she ran out, she must have done some thinking and she must have come to the conclusion that she was wrong.

 I know that, mostly, because she wouldn’t have said that a year ago. Not with that kind of quiet conviction and that calm matter-of-factness. And _this_ is how I know that this year has irrevocably changed her. That battle-hardened Marine-y no-nonsense thing in combat five days ago was impressive and kind of scary but probably mostly due to lack of sleep and a system flooded with adrenaline. That quiet, mature comment, without any hesitation or insecurity in her voice or immediate backtracking tells me more than anything that _something_ about her changed, profoundly.

 It doesn’t mean that she’s right, though. “No,” I tell her, and it’s probably the hardest thing I had to do, ever since kneeling in front of Laura’s mother and handing her the flag, “it was my fault. I didn’t pull the trigger but I might as well have.”

 “I don’t think so.” She’s not the first telling me that. Laura’s mother said it. _My_ mother said it. Dee said it. But none of them ever said it so rationally, so unemotionally, as if it’s an undisputed fact that Laura didn’t die because of me. She says it in such a mature and confident tone that I nearly believe it myself for a moment.

 Then, of course, I remember how it really was. “Look, I was _there_ , Kid. When I tell you that it was my fault, it _definitely_ was my fault. I mean… what happened… what happened was…”

 “Sir?” What? _What_? “Do you really _want_ to tell me what happened?”

 Huh? Yes? Or why else would I just get into it and… “No. I don’t think I want to do that. Not… right now.” Okay, or just answer _that_. That’s fine, too. Makes you sound kinda petulant and very much like you have done jack shit to finally learn to cope with it, but sure, go ahead and embarrass yourself in front of a damn captain.

 “Okay.” Huh? “If you ever want to tell me, I’ll be here. If you don’t, that’s fine, too.”

 What, just like that? No prodding, no poking, no needling, no accusations, no demands for an explanation? Just… “If you ever want to tell me, I’ll be here”? Laura was her best friend, and she died nine months ago, and she doesn’t even know what happened or where it happened – unless _Dee_ told her, which I would know, because he would have told _me_ – and all she says is essentially “Just tell me when you’re ready” and then leaves me be about it? I’m not… sure what to do about it.

 You know, other than say, slightly embarrassed and kinda humbled, “Thank you, Kid.”

 She nods, very slowly, and is that a… _smile_ on her face? It’s kind of hard to tell because there’s still no direct light on the balcony and the only light we have here is coming from the brightly lit city and the ocean reflecting the stars above. “You’re welcome, sir.” I am? Oh. I am. She meant that. I’m honestly not sure now what I find harder to deal with: Scary Battlefield Reece or Understanding Balcony Reece.

 So all I do is give her a little embarrassed smile and then look back out on the sea, with her sitting next to me, both of us silent and after a few minutes of that, I start to realize why she would come here of all places. First of all, it’s _quiet_. Sure, there is, way below, the sound of the waves braking against the city’s steel cliffs but other than that… not a sound. I don’t even know when I had something like that for the last time. Not even at Area 51 did we get truly quiet nights like that. There were always night maneuvers coming over from Nellis or test flights in the night over the lake or the SFs making their rounds. To really get _quiet_ , you’d had to live on the outskirts of the base, and honestly, back then, I just hadn’t been in the mood to get into a battle with Base Housing for that.

 And I get why else she would go _here_. This one really like to be by herself – I always wondered how she managed to get along with someone like Laura, or how to survive fucking boot camp, for that matter – and this place here seems to be as far as she can get from the rest of the expedition. You know, safe from that fabled mainland people keep talking about and that I yet have to see. And I know she’s got the gene and had flight lessons, and I’d have paid good money to see _that_ but somehow, I don’t think those little jumper ships are there just for anyone’s convenience.

 So… “I miss her.”

 Yeah. It’s not like I didn’t at least suspect that or that it comes wholly out of the blue. It’s just that I didn’t expect her to actually voice it out loud. Make herself vulnerable like that, especially after taking so much care during the siege to show me she could keep on fighting indefinitely and all. And again, something tells me that _this_ is a way more profound way Atlantis changed her than anything I saw during that battle.

 Weirdly enough, that quiet admission makes it way easier for _me_ to quietly – more quietly than I’d have wanted to – say, “Me, too, Kid.” And I do. God, how I _do_ miss Laura Greenspan. Fucking _hell_.

 As if she just heard that, which, honestly, she most probably did because I swear to God, she learned to mind-read here, too, she keeps quiet. At least for a few moments, before I hear her ask, “Sir?”

 Do I really know what she wants to know now? “What?”

 “Have you ever talked to anyone about it?” It’s kind of annoying that she doesn’t let me annoy her. This zen version of her is honestly more unnerving than any other version of her I have come to know.

 Mostly, because she seems to have a knack for asking _exactly_ the wrong questions. And by “wrong”, I mean “the questions that hit the bull’s eye”. Because yeah, I might have had that little chat with Dee by the Santa Rosa Sound but I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t qualify that as “talking”. I also hate to say it but she’d be right. I _really_ should have gone looking for someone to talk to, beyond the mandatory counseling sessions after losing a team member at the SGC because those are bullshit, anyway, and I honestly wish I could just lie and tell her that sure, yeah, I “talked” to someone about it. But like I said: she’s damn good at spotting lies, and possibly a mind-reader, too. I shake my head. “No.”

 That makes her give me a sad little half-smile and something I knew would come, “You should.”

 Yeah, guess I do. Just not now, okay? Or… ever. Anyway. “Hey, uh, that reminds me… I got you something.”

 Thankfully, she doesn’t ask me how telling me to seek professional help in coping with Laura’s death relates to getting her something, just frowns at me when I hand her the neat little package I got her in Rachel shortly before Dee and I shipped out for The Springs. She unwraps it, gingerly, almost as if she’s expecting something to jump at her or something and I feel almost a little insulted. Honestly, even _I_ know that this is neither the right place nor the right time for a damn practical joke, Kid.

 Because it’s so dark, it takes her a moment to recognize the book’s front cover but I can still see the exact moment when she does. Even in the dark, I can see the little smile spreading over her face, until she looks at me and I _swear_ her eyes are actually shining like a damn light. Not really trusting myself to say anything, I just scratch my neck and gesture for her to open it up.

 As you might have noticed, I have developed a kind really stupid thing with inscriptions and post-it notes and stuff like that and of _course_ I just couldn’t help it with this one, either. She has definitely found it by now, tipping the book towards the sparse light coming from the city and yup, that little snort tells me that she _has_ been able to read it.

  _This is actually a pretty good book, Kid._ Really outdid myself with that one, huh?

 It’s not a lie, though. I was so bored back in The Springs and on the _Daedalus_ that I honestly had no other choice than to crack this one open and read it. It _was_ a bit of a bitch to find someone to provide me with something to wrap it up but it turned out that one of Dr. Novak’s engineers is the designated birthday party planner onboard the _Daedalus_ and as such has a nearly dizzying array of wrapping paper stashed in the nooks of his cabin. That was just _weird_. But, admittedly, really helpful.

 Reece looks at me again, dead-pan. “You haven’t read the other five, have you?”

 Do I look like a guy who’d read kids’ books in his spare time? I snort. “No.”

 The dead-pan intensifies, if that is even possible. “You realize there’s no point in not reading them now, right?”

 Oh come _on_. I narrow my eyes at her. “I’m not taking reading assignments from a _captain_.”

 Infuriatingly, she just shrugs and packs away the book. “Suit yourself, sir.” I did see the little lingering caress she gave its cover and it’s really pathetic, but I honestly just caught myself wishing that _I_ was that cover. I really have issues.

 Which really leaves one option: quickly and ruthlessly change the topic. With the first thing coming to mind. Something like, “So, about this Lieutenant Rivers guy…”

 “I came to him and apologized, yes.” She just says that like it’s no big deal. This guy constantly tried undermining her, provoking her, ignoring her orders…

 “ _Why_?” I honestly don’t get it.

 And here she is, just shrugging and telling me, with a bit of an “how dumb of a question _was_ that” edge, “Because it was the right thing to do, sir.”

 Oh, the right thing to do, uh-huh. Right thing my _ass_. “Come on, Kid, he had it coming.”

 She nods, slowly, as if to consider my argument which I bet she didn’t even spent a second on. “He did, and he said so himself.” So why… “But I was senior to him in that situation and losing my shit like that was a really crappy thing to do.”

 I actually think I’m starting to actively hate this version of her. It’s so… mature. I frown at her. “He _knew_ he had it coming and he still let you apologize to him?”

 Was that an eye-roll? I’m pretty sure I just saw her rolling her eyes at me. I mean, it’s really kind dark here but it _definitely_ looked like she just rolled her eyes. “Sir, it’s fine. He’s actually a pretty okay guy. Just really inexperienced and insecure. He’ll do just fine with a little more seasoning.”

 Wait, _what_? “So… he’s gonna _stay_?”

 That teases a little amused snort from her, and I’m ridiculously pleased by that. “Nah, he’s gonna ship out as soon as he can.” No, wait, I am ridiculously pleased by _that_. Imagine if it turned out that she actually _liked_ him. I might have had to interact with him on a regular basis because that’s who she is: if she likes people, she spends time with them. Heck, she even spends time with people she _doesn’t_ like. Case in point: me. “Said space vampires are kinda not his thing and he actually prefers Iraq to Pegasus.”

 Okay, so I said I already hate this place. But honestly, no matter how bad it is _here_ , it just _can’t_ be worse than Iraq. We have _bath tubs_ here, after all. It’s me snorting now. “Weird guy.”

 “Absolutely.” Is she being sarcastic? Or did she mean that? “But still okay.” Did she mean _that_?

 Okay, yes, she probably did. Because she’s nothing if not honest. If she says the guy who gave her headaches during a pretty intense time during the siege is an “okay” kind of guy, he is. Still, I can’t help sounding at least a _little_ petulant when I say, “If you say so.” And, to stop her from possibly needling me about being a sore loser – the original Reece would never have done that but with this new and not sure if improved version, I really don’t want to take my chances – I do another little change of topic, because a really stupid idea just started forming in my head, “You could have your own team, you know that, right?”

 Another slow nod, this time more to herself than to me, “I do. Would be a terrible idea, though.”

 Huh, what? “Why?”

 She shrugs, and it’s _supposed_ to look all casual but for some reason, I can see a certain kind of tension to it. “I’m not ready, sir. I couldn’t, as the saying goes, lead my way out of a damn paper bag.” No, honestly, that’s bullshit. What I saw in that siege was some really, _really_ great potential. Something I’d tried _not_ to see back at the SGC and couldn’t ignore in the siege because it basically _leapt_ at me every time I looked at her. “You said it yourself, I made some really bad calls because of an enormous lack of judgement.” No. I mean, I did. But… “Case in point: Lieutenant Rivers.” _Dammit_.

 I sigh. “You know, considering what you’d been through at that point…”

 She shakes her head, and there’s nothing casual about it now. “It wasn’t just during the siege, sir. People got hurt on my watch before that.”

 Yeah. That’s a shitty thing to happen. But there is something in this she probably _didn’t_ want to tell me: she led people. In her year here, she led people, and she led them in combat, or at least that’s what it sounds like. She was a goddamn _leader_. I take a deep breath. “People got hurt on my watch, too, Kid.”

 For some reason, that makes her wince and I only realize what that just implied when she sputters, “Shit, I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to...”

 Okay, no, we’re not getting into this now. So I just blithely ignore her stuttering and just plow on, “That said, your calls weren’t actually all that bad.” I mean that. She had some not so stellar moments but let’s all be honest: without her, neither Dee nor I would have survived down there. We’d have been Wraith fodder after maybe thirty minutes. But, okay, she had _one_ good point, “Well, aside from that thing with Rivers. That _was_ pretty… Yeah, anyway. You just had a bit of an attitude problem.” And now for that idea that I had and that’s stupid and goes against all good judgement and that I just can’t out of my head, “We can work on that.”

 “We, sir?” Yeah, I thought she’d react like that.

 Now that it’s out in the open, though, it’s too late for second thoughts. Just rip off the Band-Aid, why don’t you. “I still have two open spots on my team. I’m willing to take you on, _if_ you’ll serve as my XO.”

 There. I said it. I made a really dangerous suggestion, considering how I thought I would be over her after a year of no contact and how that didn’t work in the slightest. Having her on my team again would mean working closely with her, possibly even closer than at the SGC, considering that we’d also be living in the same place, in maybe ten minutes’ distance from each other. And working and living so closely to each other just _can’t_ be a good idea. And yet I can’t help wanting her on my team, if she decides against having her own.

 She doesn’t seem to think so. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, sir, but I really don’t think I’m ready…”

 No, _that_ is not an argument I’m willing to accept. Or at least not like that. “You don’t have to take that slot.” I mean that, though. She can reject the invitation, and there won’t be any repercussions. “I won’t hold it against you. No hard feelings, etc., blahblahblah.” However, she’ll have to reject it wholesome. No XO, no team. “If you _are_ on my team, though, you’re there as my XO. I’m leaving that choice to you. Those are your options. Take it or leave it but it’s not negotiable.”

 She takes her time, because that’s who she is. She doesn’t make decisions like that light-heartedly. She thinks them through, silent, by herself, without letting anyone pressure her for anything and then one day, she comes to you during a team get together and tells you that she’s leaving for the great unknown, without knowing if or when she’ll come back and you feel the rug pulled out from under your feet and then just a big bunch of nothingness.

 “Okay.”

 What? “Okay?”

 “Okay. I’ll be your XO.” That’s… not what I expected her to say.  

 I’m… not sure what to say for a moment, just sit there and blink and then the only thing that comes out is a meagre, “Oh. Good.”

 There’s a grin on her face, now. Mischievous, and I’m not sure if I have ever seen that before. I like it. Oh God, I _like_ it. “Good,” she says and grins a little more.  

 Oh God, I’m screwed. I’m _so_ screwed. What did I just _do_? _Why_ did I do that? And why do I actually go, “And uh… Tom’s fine. When we’re off-duty.”

 That makes her shake her head again and get serious very fast. I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. “We’re _never_ off-duty when we’re in Atlantis, sir.”

 That’s a _good_ way out of here for you. Just… “You know what I mean.” Not like _that_.

 “Yes, sir.” Okay, she’s being obstinate about this, I can live with… “Tom.”

 Okay. Or maybe she isn’t. She doesn’t sound entirely comfortable with it but this _is_ the first time she actually called me by my first name and truth to be told, if I didn’t have that stupid and complicated thing for her, I’d have offered her first name basis _ages_ ago and I think I kinda like it when she doesn’t call me sir? It’s weirder than I thought it would be but not entirely… bad? I uh…

 “Oh thank God.” What the… _Dee_?

 She turns around. “Took you long enough, Sergeant.” Huh? What?

 “You’re one hard Marine to find, Maureen.” I will _never_ get used to my sergeant and my now XO calling each other by their first names, and hey, the fact that they’ve already been doing it back at the SGC makes it extra ridiculous that I offered her first name basis only now. “And thank God there hasn’t been any bloodshed here.”

 In the half dark from the sparse corridor lights playing on her face turned towards the door and Dee, I can see raised eyebrows. “Bloodshed? Isn’t that just a bit dramatic, Dee?”

 “Yes, Dee. Isn’t that just a _bit_ dramatic?” Because honestly, it _is_. “I did tell you I’d handle this.”

 “Yeah,” Dee says, “that’s exactly what I was afraid of. Sir.” Fucking _hell_.

 And what’s so funny about that, Kid? “Don’t worry, Dee. He did fine.” I did? “Well, mostly.” _Mostly_? “I just agreed to be his new XO, so he must have done _something_ right.”

 “His new XO? Are you sure that was a wise idea? I mean you could have had…”

 “I’m sitting. _Right_ here.” That wasn’t supposed to come through gritted teeth but what the fuck is this even about? _What_ is so bad about being my XO? I mean, aside from the obvious.

 She smiles. That rare little smile that only ever other people – namely, Dee – seem to get, never me because apparently, I don’t rate high enough in her circle of acquaintances to deserve one. “We’ll see how it turns out.” Huh? That caveat wasn’t part of the negotiations. What the… “Come on. Now that you’re here, might as well get to enjoy the view, too.”

 Dee, being the smart guy he is, has probably realized the moment he stepped out here that this is here private sanctuary and that she only very rarely, maybe never, invites people to join her up here and being the polite guy he is also accepts her invitation with a grace I completely lacked and _why_ is my sergeant more of a gentleman than I am and…

 “Holy hell, Maureen I gotta tell you… Oh. You already got company.” _What the fucking hell_?

 Again, she turns around and I expect her to throw this interloper out. “It’s fine, Mats. They usually don’t bite.” Or that. That works fine, too.

 No, damn, it doesn’t. I honestly thought I was done with this guy, unless I was dumb enough to land myself in the infirmary which of course I strive to avoid at any possible cost. I don’t have any qualms telling him, “I fucking do. Get lost, Morsberg.”

 And _that_ was a _really_ stupid thing to do, as Dee’s very quiet groan and Reece’s not so quiet dirty look tell me. “Don’t listen to him, Mats. You’ll always be welcome here.” Yeah, I kinda deserved that. It _is_ “her” balcony, but honestly, this guy just…

 “Nah, it’s fine. Actually, it’s a good thing he’s here, too.” Whatever he means by that, it can only be bad news. “Effective immediately, I’m your new team medic. Sir.” _Fucking_ called it. Bad new, indeed.

 “Says who?” I all but growl and Reece definitely just rolled her eyes. Could she just not keep doing that, please?

 “Says Major Lorne.” The _hell_? “He also said, quote, if he has any issues with your assignment, he has to take them up with _me_ and no one else, unquote.” I _hate_ Evan Lorne. He _knew_ I’d complain about it and he _knew_ I’d go all the way up to the top of the chain of command to get what I want and he just effectively killed that dead before I even got started. I hate, hate, _hate_ it when he does that.

 Also, why did Reece just jump up and squeal and goddamn _hug_ the Hun? “Oh my God, you _finally_ got your off-world team spot! You made it, Mats?”

 “I _know_ ,” I can hear him gush through her smothering hug and she’d never hug _me_ like that and I know I’m being about as mature as a seven-year-old but I’m _jealous_ , goddammit.

 “We’re even going to be on the same team!” She wasn’t _nearly_ as excited about this when I asked her about it. This isn’t _fair_. And there’s no reason for you to grin like that, Dee.

 They high-five each other with _both_ hands and okay, that’s enough. “Hey, can the high school cheerleaders who just took over your bodies please get the fuck out of here again? It’s honestly getting a little embarrassing watching two O-3s squealing like teenagers.” Wow, and now I managed to sound like one of those “GET OFF MY LAWN!” types from back home, and I’m in my early _thirties_.

 Still. I was right.

 “Teenagers are some of the smartest people I know, sir.” Ah, and we’re done with the “Tom”. I’m tempted to correct her, just to embarrass her in front of both Dee and apparently her new best friend, just out of spite, but a _really_ dirty look from Dee keeps me from doing it. I do value all my bodily appendages intact, thank you very much. “Anyway, just come on, Mats. You guys need to learn to get along with each other without me, so might as well get a little head start.”

 “Excuse me, _Captain_? Get along _without_ you?” What _else_ hasn’t she told me?

 “Yeah,” she says, sitting down in that spot next to me again, and I could have _sworn_ that she just blushed. “I’m going back to Earth with the Command Team, tomorrow morning.” And the hits _just_ keep coming. “Sorry, sir. It was a last minute thing because apparently, someone back on Earth decided that they wanted to crucify Sheppard and apparently want to use as many of his people as they can get for that.” That… doesn’t sound pleasant. “And they decided that the officers he promoted at least needed to go before the board before any decision about the temporary promotions could be made.” She shrugs again but I can see that she’s _not_ casual about this. She wants this promotion to stick, and until now I would have sworn up and down the promotions manual that she didn’t have a speck of ambition in here. I guess I just looked in the wrong places for it.

 In the end, it’s Morsberg who breaks the silence following that. “So… when are you going to be back?”

 She gives us a heavy sigh, and it’s not entirely ironic. “Nine weeks, give or take.”

 “Nine fucking _weeks_?” What the fuck is _wrong_ with these people?

 Another sigh. “The _Daedalus_ needs three weeks back to the Milky Way, now that she doesn’t have a ZPM anymore, then another three weeks for decon, retrofitting and maintenance and then another three weeks to get back to Pegasus.”

 “I’m supposed to lead my team without my XO for _nine damn weeks_?” I can’t believe the shit this galaxy keeps throwing at me.

 She gives me another dead-pan look, and seems she has perfected those here. “I’m sure you’ll get along just fine without me, sir.”

 There was an unmistakable edge to this that tells me to shut the hell up about this and put on my big boy pants and stop whining and the worst thing about it is that it’s working. “Yeah. Just fine. We’ll be just fine.”

 “See? That’s what I thought.” And just like that she managed to shut me up and kill this line of conversation and turn it into a completely new direction, something about how she loves to watch the city at night because of all the lights reflected in the ocean or some such nonsense and the moment I actually start listening to her waxing poetic about Atlantis, with little injections from Morsberg and Dee asking questions and I just start to enjoy listening to her and watching her again, I know that I’m screwed.

 Really, really screwed.

 And right now, I wouldn’t even want to have it any other way. Oh, hell.

**Author's Note:**

> Not a cliffhanger!
> 
> Not a real one, anyway.
> 
> Okay, maybe it is a cliffhanger. 
> 
> Ugh.
> 
> I'm sorry!


End file.
